How Do I make you smile?
by LaWsp
Summary: Gregory never smiles, no one knows why. No one even questions it, except Tweek, whose determined to find out why and help him learn how to smile again.
1. Chapter 1

I don't understand why he never smiles. Well, he does smile but its never because he's happy. He always smirks arrogantly because he's made Stan look like an idiot or he's used his charm to manipulate someone to do what he wants but never because he's happy. He's just so narcissistic.

I absentmindedly twirl the end of my pencil in my mouth, muling over these questions in my head.  
>"Tweek! Are you paying attention?!".<br>Mr garrison slams his hands down on his desk, glaring at me over the top of his glasses. I take my pencil out of my mouth and grumble my words lazily "yeah, yeah. Macbeth seeing the ghost of Duncan was a sign of his subconscious showing guilt".  
>Finally making eye contact with him, I could see his face form into a scowl. "This is maths class! Not literature!"".<br>I few other students snickered but I shrugged it off and decided to reside back to my thoughts. My paranoia and anxieties have improved a lot after I cut back on my caffeine intake two years ago so these days I'm pretty laid back. Not many things bother me that much anymore...with the exception of him. Why doesn't he ever fucking smile? It could be any number of things, how Wendy treated him, his only friend moved back to France, maybe something happened outside of his social life. I couldn't imagine it being something wrong at home, his parents are quite wealthy and he's an only child so they spoil him. The bell finally rings for the end of class and I flinch, startled. Gathering my books I quickly leave for my next class, luckily I left quick enough before garrison called me back

I swapped my maths book for my sketch book in my locker, I smile to myself, knowing I got art class next. I like art, I can think clearly in art. Looking up the hallway towards my next class, there's not many people crowed in the corridor so I don't have to walk a different way to art. Being short I kinda have to avoid large crowds otherwise I'll get trampled.  
>Strolling up to art, happy that I walk somewhere without getting pushed or stood on, out the corner of my eye I can see Gregory glancing around before leaving through the fire exit. I bite my tongue, debating whether to follow him or forget it and go to art. Rolling my eyes and sighing, I shove my books in my bag and leave out the fire exit too.<p>

The cold air hits me hard and I breathe in sharply only to confronted with the strong smell of smoke. Shutting the door behind me, I swivel my head to see Gregory sat on concrete steps leading from the porch of the fire exit to the soft snow on the ground. Only now do I notice the cigarette in his hand and the suspicious looking flask of tea on the step next to him. He lifts the cigarette to his pale lips and takes another drag, I'm confronted by the harsh smoke again as he exhales and the grey cloud passes through his lips. Either he hasn't noticed me standing behind him(which is plausible considering my height) or he doesn't care. Its most likely the latter. I take my own cigarette from my pocket and rest it between my lips, sitting down beside him. I can feel his ice cold glare burning through the side of my head. Another question I have yet to answer runs through my mind, why does he purposely isolate himself from everyone?  
>I turn my head to meet his gaze, taking my cigarette away from my lips "do you have a lighter?".<br>I raise an eyebrow, hoping he's not going to ignore me. Just as I conclude he's not going to respond. He does, bringing the cigarette to his lips once again "yes".

He turns his head away from me and continues to gaze across the icy football field. I wait for him to pass me a lighter but realise he's being a sarcastic asshole. Sucking my teeth in annoyance, I stand to leave but to my surprise I'm pulled back down. I can feel his tight grip on my arm as he forces a silver lighter into my hand. "I was kidding, Tweek. There was no need to be so cold about it.".  
>I light my cigarette and pass the lighter back, snorting "that's ironic coming from you".<br>Absent of all emotion, he raises his head a little. I'm guessing he's agreeing with me...I think..  
>"I never thought you were the type to skip class".<br>I watch him put his cigarette out in the snow as I wait for a response that I probably won't get. "You never struck me as the type to skip class either".  
>He doesn't even look in my direction, just stares across the pitch and lifts that suspicious flask to his mouth. I know it's tea but it can't be just tea. Whatever it is, it smells strong.<br>He must of caught me watching him because he passes the flask to me, a little less hostile than he did with the lighter. "What's in here?".

I lift it to my face a smell it, which kind of answered my question. It smells strongly of whiskey.  
>This time he actually looks at me as he speaks.<br>"Jack Daniels whiskey".  
>I remove the burnt out cigarette from my lips and flick it into the snow before taking a sip, then a drink of it.<br>"Don't drink all of it, pint size!"  
>He barks, snatching it back. Guess we're back to the hostility.<br>A smirk forms across my face as a snicker to myself "did you just call me pint size?".  
>He sips the tea and whiskey, not dignifying me with a response. I glance at the time on my phone, half of the lesson has passed. Deciding I better show up for the last thirty minutes of art class, I stood up to leave. "Well, it was nice having a smoke with you, Gregory".<br>He looks up to me "I guess so..".

I glance back one last time before going back inside, since its near the end of the day, the sky has turned a various amount of shades of blue and orange. Casting shadows across the far field. His ice blue eyes meet my green ones, the light had cast over his face too. Illuminating his high cheek bones and sharp features. I can't help but smile, he looked quite handsome. He never smiled back at me though.


	2. Chapter 2

"In portraiture, getting a decent sketch down first is vital".

The flamboyant man at the front of the class demonstrated his statement by drawing out a circle with a cross through it on the white board. He carried on talking about basic stuff I already knew so I found myself spacing out as I lazily sketched out the beginning of a face like the teacher requested. Glancing around, every other student was bored as well. I scoffed, that's substitute teachers for you.

He spent so long on getting the right shape and sketching the cross in the right place. At least I can go home after this. Yawning, without thinking I sketched out facial features. Narrow, sharp eyes. Strong jawline. Neatly gelled back hair. High cheekbones. Pale lips. The portrait wasn't smiling.

I knew exactly who I sketched in my book. Inwardly I cringed at my creepy clique-ness. The sound of the bell rang in my ears and I slammed my book shut, mildly disgusted with myself.

Walking out, shoving my sketchbook into my bag and putting my headphones in, I put the portrait to the back on my mind. Its not that I hate him or anything. I just hate drawing people I know, it makes me feel like a stalker.

I spent the rest of the night playing video games and listening to music, not thinking about the portrait again.

The following morning I went through my usual routine, get up, dress myself, breakfast, teeth, hair and walk to school with Clyde. As I walked with him he must of noticed how I wasn't as talkative and sarcastic today since he questioned my wellbeing, "Is there something up, Tweek?".

I shifted my eyes to look at him, he had his usual stylishly messy brown locks and cheeky grin. There's no wonder why he's a well known ladies man at south park high. "Its nothing".

"Dude, I've known you for about fourteen years. I know when something's up".

I shrugged, knowing I've been rumbled. "You know that Gregory guy?".

He frowned a little and nodded. "Yeah, he used to be a mercenary with that Chris kid".

Thinking for a minute about my next words, I scuffed my feet in the snow and huffed "he never smiles, I need to know why".

Clyde chuckled and shook his head "I know that you've always wanted to be a detective but this is a bit far. Yes he never smiles but who cares? He's a stuck up asshole. If there was something seriously wrong he would do something about it, he's a smart guy".

I scowled at the ground, he's one hundred percent right but I just really want to know why. "Clyde, I can't explain. I just need to know. I fucking have to know. I don't know why but I do".

He rolled his eyes at me "even if you do find out, what will you do. Help him?".

The brunette paused for a moment and them started to grin that cheeky grin. "Oh my god. You're into him!".

I turned to him, frowning at his stupid goofy expression. "What?!".

Clyde laughed loudly " You so like him! Don't look so discouraged I'm sure he likes you too, cutie Tweeky".

He tussled my hair playfully "oh Tweeky. You two would be soooo cute together. You so want his D".

I scowled harder, barking at him "shut up, Clyde!. I don't like him!".

For no apparent reason I recalled smoking outside the fire escape with him yesterday. It was the first time we've talked in a while but its not like we was friends before anyway. Its just as I left...

My thoughts were interrupted by Clyde. "Suuree you don't, Tweek".

I scoffed and realised I was blushing lightly.

"You're not going to get anywhere though, he doesn't like to interact with other people. You'd need a reason to talk to him".

I frowned again, Clyde has certainly changed his tune. As we approached the school he turned to me and winked "I'll look into it for you, Tweeky".

I can help but wonder what he's scheming.

The first two lessons passed as they have been for the past three weeks, mulling over the same set of questions in my head. By third lesson I grew tired of my questions and decided that Clyde was right, I should actually do something.

As Mr garrison carried on with what he was teaching yesterday, I racked my brain for any ideas on what I could possibly do but I didn't have to think about it for long. Clyde, who was sat behind me, jabbed me in the back. "Hey Tweek'.

I turned to face him. Garrison was now talking about all his ex boyfriends so he's too distracted to notice us talking at the back. "What is it Clyde?".

He grinned at me once again and chuckled "I have your solution, milady".

Exhaling hard, I ignored his idiocy and furrowed my brow "what are you talking about?".

Smirking, he handed me a small black book with a fake silver lock on it. "What is this?".

I looked up to meet his gaze. "What do you think? You have a reason to talk to him now. Just go to his house after school and say he dropped his notebook and you picked it up".

My eyes widened "Clyde. You stole his book?".

He shrugged with his usual cheeky grin "yep. Kind of five finger discounts, right here".

I shook my head "he's going to know it was you. He'll come for you".

"Shut up, no he won't". He furrowed his brow, pulling an overly dramatic face and sniffing as if he's about to cry "Just. Just go get your man."

He flung a hand to his head dramatically, resting the back of it against his forehead. I smirked and grumbled at his goofiness, Clyde always knew how to make me laugh.

"Alright. Alright. I'll do it."

Glancing around the room, Garrison was still gossiping about men but on a couple of desks across, Gregory looked up. Looking at me first, then at his notebook in my hand. Fuck. I considered running but that wouldn't be a smart idea so I turned back to the maths questions in front of me and ignored him. Which was quite tricky with those ice blue eyes burning into the side of my head.

As soon as the bell rang for lunch, I was gone. There was no point staying in school so I went home, my parents would be at work so I'd have the house to myself. I'll give him the book back later when I knew he'd be home, hopefully he hasn't figured out what's going on. Hopefully.

I procrastinated for a while, sipping coffee and daydreaming, mostly about what could be in the notebook. I don't really want to invade his privacy but it may give me an insight to solving the case. Solving my questions, I correct my thoughts. Sometimes I forget that I'm not a detective, I get so carried away with pretending that I am. The book is probably just what I'd typically expect to find, notes from lessons, important dates and knowing him, it's probably incredibly neat. I roll off my couch, reaching for the notebook on the coffee table. Flicking it open, I discover that I was right. It had notes for lessons, Christophe's new phone number, dates of exams. Typical. A straight A student's notebook.

Out of boredom, I flipped to the back of the book hopping to find some more personal notes, his thoughts, that kind of thing but to my surprise I found lyrics to a song. Its was only a few lines but I knew the song so it was easy to narrow it down to Map of the problematique by Muse. The words are dark, as if he wrote over them a good few times until the ink bled through the other side of the page.

_Loneliness be over_

_When will this loneliness be over_

_Life will flash before my eyes_

_So scattered and lost_

_I want to touch the other side_

_And no one thinks they are to blame_

_Why can't we see_

_That when we bleed we bleed the same_


End file.
